Description:

Stefan's on the edge of being lanky, leanly muscled like a swimmer might be at the height of around six foot with a little bit of lazy in his posture. Depending on the season and how much sun he's seen, his hair can range from a walnut color to a dark gold, always, it seems like, in need of a cut as it gets in the way of his slate blue eyes. Everything about him seems to kind of slide along in this slow way, like a breeze tangled up in the transition between spring and summer, except for his hands, which constantly fidget and fiddle for want of something to do. They're well taken care of, those hands, calloused as they are at the fingers.

Powers:

Super-human Hearing: Stefan's hearing is so acute that it's literally off the charts. Not only is he able to pick out and identify average-level sounds (60-70 dB) from as far as a full mile away, but he can also hear infrasonic and ultrasonic sounds that the average person cannot. He is also able to determine perfect pitch, and the resonance of objects ranging from as a small as a pin to as large as a skyscraper, as long as he is close enough (maximum distance varies based upon the size of the object, ranging from 1-100 yards).

Sound Wave Manipulation: Stefan is able to manipulate the sound waves created by clapping his hands by methods unknown (he thinks about it, and that's all he knows). Thanks to his ability to determine the resonance of objects, he can create a sound wave that's at the perfect frequency for the object, causing it to shatter or otherwise explode (this includes organic and animate objects).

He can also create a type of sonic boom that radiates out from his hands (no doubt a sound wave manipulated in the same fashion, with the area, not an object, targeted instead). Creating an intense shockwave that can knock people to their feet, this little trick has the potential to blow all of the windows out of a 30ft by 30ft room if Stefan is standing in the middle and there are no large objects in the way.

History:

Stefan Soames suffered from so many ear infections as a baby and a toddler than his parents and pediatrician were worried that the boy might go deaf or suffer partial hearing loss. Instead, he shocked everybody when, at the age of two, he climbed up on the bench of the family's old, second-hand piano and carefully plunked out the melody of the song Peter Cottontail, copied note-for-note from his favorite stuffed bunny fitted with an internal music box. Astonished by their son's aptitude for the piano, the Soames' nevertheless encouraged him in his exploration of the music world, and by five Stefan could not only play by ear, but also read music as if he were four times his age.

He was introduced to the violin by this point, although this instrument was shunned by the boy. "It doesn't sing quite right," he explained, in the very serious manner of kindergarteners attempting to purvey incredibly important information the world over. Instead, he fell in love with his instructor's cello, and was soon given one of his own. Guitar was added to his repertoire at the age of ten.

Music was everything to Stefan growing up. He would spend hours straight at an instrument, shifting from known melodies to ones he thought up as he played, when other children would go outside to play or else stayed inside to watch TV. He took little interest in activities other kids his age enjoyed, but his parents remained supportive and unworried. They only really intervened when he became forgetful about meals and schoolwork (even school, period), at which points they had to threaten to lock the piano. He was never malicious or willful about it, however: he just simply became lost in his playing. About the only thing that could lure him away from practicing was when his mother or grandmother had him help out with cooking, something that developed into a well-loved hobby of his.

As a young teenager, the ear infections that had plagued his young life returned with a vengeance soon after he performed in a concert for the Governor of Oregon. Once again, his family and doctor were fearful of Stefan suffering from hearing loss, due to the intensity and viciousness of the infections. For six hellish months, the number of days that Stefan wasn't in pain from his ears could be counted on a single hand. But there was a strangeness to the infections, as Stefan's hearing seemed to swing like a pendulum: some days, he couldn't hear at all, whereas other days even the sound of his mother walking by his room in the hallway on socked feet were unbearably loud.

Finally, one day, Stefan woke up without his ears locked in an infection. His acute hearing, however, remained. Unable to explain the phenomenon, the pediatrician was loathe to prescribe any kind of medication-a rare gem of a doctor these days-not knowing how any would work, and simply went about getting the boy earplugs, instead.

Thankfully, the Soames' lived in a more or less liberal neighborhood, and the fact that Stefan was a little different never really became a problem for the community. Instead, everyone seemed to focus on his skills as a virtuoso, and he was largely supported and applauded when he was accepted at Julliard. There, surrounded by like-minded and talented individuals, Stefan was practically in heaven.

Amazingly, he wandered off of Julliard's campus maybe two or three whole times to explore the city of New York when he was there (it's a wonder he even came out of the practice rooms), and those times were only to catch performances on Broadway. Once he graduated, however, Stefan decided to stick around in the Big Apple, as it presented many more opportunities to a starving musician than Oregon did, and he formed a band with a good friend from his college days. Gigs don't always pay the bills, though, no matter how talented you are, and so he also teaches private lessons, plays with a string quartet, and occasionally sits in with one of the many professional orchestras found throughout the city.